Paroxysm
by FallenAngel218
Summary: Tim has a lot of pent-up rage. Gibbs helps him find an outlet. Takes place after their return from Paraguay.


The lights in the squad room were dimmed. Gibbs stepped out onto the balcony, having just finished a late meeting with Vance. Everyone had gone home- except for Tim. He was sitting at his computer, typing fast. Gibbs had never seen his fingers move so quickly.

The MCRT had picked up a case that afternoon, and it was frustrating the hell out of everyone. Gibbs ordered his team to get out of here and get some rest. They could look at it with fresh eyes the next morning. Why then, was Tim still here?

A loud bang startled Gibbs, and he brought his gaze back down long enough to see Tim pounding his fist on the keyboard. He jogged down the stairs and over to Tim's desk.

"Whoa, whoa! McGee… take it easy on that thing, will ya?" Gibbs said, putting his hand on Tim's wrist. "What the hell is wrong?"

Tim's chest heaved in fury. He _really _wanted to hit something. Hard. He got up and grabbed his go bag.

"Where are you going?" Gibbs asked.

"The gym," Tim replied, walking toward the back elevator.

Gibbs let him go. He'd known Tim long enough to let him be alone when he needed time.

Tim changed into his sweats and pulled on a pair of boxing gloves. He headed over to the punching bag. This was better than breaking his keyboard.

He struck the bag, hard. He punched it with fury, letting out all of the pent up fury and frustration he'd been feeling. He'd been telling everyone he was okay since he and Gibbs had returned from Paraguay, including his wife. He'd been putting up a good front, too, until this case came across their desks. All the frustration from not being able to find the Lieutenant's killer brought his fury to a head of steam, and it was begging to be released.

The bag swayed as Tim continued to pulverize it. He swung haphazardly, just wanting to get his rage out. He was so intent on destroying the punching bag, that he didn't notice someone else come into the gym and approach him.

"Feeling better yet?"

Tim jumped as he took a swing, missing the bag and nearly clipping Gibbs in the chin.

"Not even close," he said, punching the bag again.

"You want to talk about it?"

Another swing.

"I'd rather punch this bag right now."

Tim swung again and again, as Gibbs watched. He knew his senior agent would never be able to get all of his pent up rage out this way.

"Tim."

He kept punching.

"I'm not done."

"You are. Stop for a second."

Another jab to the bag.

"I'm not done!"

Gibbs put his hands on the bag to steady it.

"Damn it, stop!"

Tim turned and swung as his Boss, letting his rage take over. Gibbs sidestepped him and swept his feet out from underneath him, bringing Tim down on his back on the mat below them. Gibbs held him down as he tried unsuccessfully to swing again.

"Stop. Right the hell now."

It took a minute, but Tim finally stopped swinging, and fell slack to the mat. Gibbs looked at him with an icy glare that made even the toughest perps fall to pieces.

"I'm sorry," Tim finally said.

Gibbs released his grip and sat next to Tim on the mat. Tim sat up and started to remove the boxing gloves.

"What's going on, Tim?"

"Everyone keeps asking me how I'm doing," he said, throwing the first glove down next to him on the mat. "Truth be told, I'm really not sure how I'm doing."

"Paraguay?"

Tim nodded as he dropped the second boxing glove.

"I don't know how to explain it," he admitted. "I've been putting up this front to everyone, telling them I'm good, but—"

"You're not."

Tim looked at his hands.

"No."

"Have you talked with Delilah?"

"I can't put this on her right now… it's something I have to deal with myself."

"You do?"

"This is my pain to deal with. I'm not – I can't – I won't tell her. She's better off thinking I'm all right."

Tim got to his feet and picked up the gloves. He started walking toward the shelf to return them to their place.

Gibbs pushed himself up and followed.

"You really think this is what Delilah wants?"

Tim slammed down the gloves onto the shelf and turned to face Gibbs.

"I don't know, okay! I just—I don't know."

Gibbs could see the rage starting to resurface. He wasn't sure the punching bag had gotten it all out of his young friend. There was a lot of emotion welling up in Tim.

"Tim… I think you need to talk this out with someone."

Tim shook his head.

"Do you think what happened in here tonight is healthy? Are you gonna come down here every night and beat this thing to submission? What happens if you can't get here… what gets hit in its place?"

Tim felt rage boiling up in him again.

"What the hell are you insinuating?"

"Your rage isn't healthy. That's all."

Tim's anger boiled over, and he took a swing at Gibbs, this time connecting with his chin. Gibbs stumbled backward, but kept his footing. That icy glare returned, and he rounded on his agent.

"You finished, McGee?"

Tim's chest heaved as he stood there, looking into his Boss' icy blue stare. As his mind settled, the realization of what he had just done hit him like a ton of bricks.

"Boss… I'm sorry. Did I –"

"I'm fine."

Tim scrubbed a hand over his face.

"What the hell is wrong with me?"

"Why don't you go home and talk to your wife," Gibbs said gently. "I think she will understand more than you think she will, Tim."

"Maybe you're right."

"It might even help you stop punching things," Gibbs said lightly.

Tim smiled.

"I really am sorry, Boss. I was just so angry…"

"We're good, Tim. Go take a shower and get your ass home to your wife before she puts a BOLO out on you."

Tim smiled and turned to head to the showers. Gibbs watched him retreat. Tim was all right for now, but he knew his young friend would have a long road ahead of him, just as long as the one Gibbs was facing. As long as Tim knew he had someone to confide in, he was going to get through it.

**END**


End file.
